


Anniversary

by Caedmon



Series: Fantasies [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anniversary, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Roleplay, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: On the first anniversary of their coming together (romantically), Crowley sets out to woo Aziraphale the way the angel always deserved to be wooed.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Fantasies [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738033
Comments: 75
Kudos: 237





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> It's not necessary to enjoy the story, but this story will make a bit more sense if you've read "Invitation to a Seduction" by me, posted a few weeks ago. 
> 
> Beta'd by NaurimiKaiko, who is the best beta. I'm a very lucky girl. 
> 
> Special thanks, as always, to the ladies of the Cadre server who brainstorm and plot with me. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love. Thank you for them.

It was just after lunch on Sunday, a lovely, crisp autumn afternoon. Aziraphale and Crowley were sitting on their favorite bench at St James park, feeding the ducks. Well, Aziraphale was sitting on the bench. Crowley was in his usual sprawl across two thirds of the available space, watching with a quirked smile as Aziraphale tossed duck feed out, making them scramble. His arm was lying across the back of the bench, his hand near Aziraphale’s neck, and occasionally, he’d trace his fingertips along the skin between Aziraphale’s collar and hairline, making Aziraphale break out in pleasant gooseflesh. Aziraphale always took a moment to look over at his love and smile when he did, and Crowley always smiled softly in return. 

“I love you,” Crowley said, apropos of nothing, as he so frequently did. 

Aziraphale leaned over and kissed him lightly. “I love you, too, darling.”

They sat in near silence for a bit while Aziraphale tossed food from his little bag which was endlessly supplied via miracle. The silence was comfortable and pleasant, but Aziraphale knew it couldn’t last long. His beloved demon wouldn’t be able to abide it. He made little bets with himself about when Crowley would speak to strike up a conversation. 

The answer was two minutes and forty-three seconds. 

“We’ve been together nearly a year,” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale grinned. “We’ve been together much longer than that, dear.”

Crowley gave him a look. “You know what I mean. Together-together.”

“Is our anniversary really coming up?” he asked, although he knew the answer. 

“Yep. In ten days, on the twenty-eighth.”

“My, how time flies. It seems like only yesterday I sent you that note, inviting you to a seduction. But at the same time, it feels much longer.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

Aziraphale placed a hand on his leg and gave a reassuring squeeze. “In the best possible way.”

“Good.”

They were silent a little longer, and Aziraphale decided to let the bottomless bag run out. Once it was empty, he folded it neatly and lay it beside his leg, to be tossed in the bin upon leaving. That done, he scooted a little closer to his demon and sighed happily when he felt Crowley’s arm settle around him. 

“Do you have any regrets?”

Crowley scoffed. “Six thousand years on earth: yeah, I’ve got a few regrets.”

“I meant about us.”

“Not a one.” Then he cocked an eyebrow at Aziraphale. “Why? Do you have regrets about the past year?”

“No, not really,” said Aziraphale. 

Crowley leaned away slightly and peered at him. “Not really? Does that mean you _do_ have regrets?”

“Not _regrets_ , really. That’s too strong a word.” 

“You’re scaring me, angel.”

Aziraphale rubbed a soothing circle on his chest. “Don’t be scared, my love. It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like? Tell me.”

“You’re going to think I’m silly.”

“It’s not silly to me if it’s important to you, Aziraphale. Please, tell me.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Very well. But let me preface this by saying that I don’t regret one minute of our time together. Not one. Alright?”

“Alright. Now tell me before I discorporate from nerves.”

“No, don’t do that. It’s just… I used to spend a lot of time daydreaming about you and me. I knew how you felt about me and I knew how I felt about you, and I used to… goodness, this is embarrassing.”

Crowley stroked his arm gently. “Angel, you can tell me anything.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… I used to fantasize about you wooing me, seducing me. About you confessing your love to me and sweeping me off my feet.”

The demon was silent for a minute. “That’s basically what you did for me.”

“Yes.”

“And you wished I’d done that for you.”

“Yes. I told you it was silly.”

“It’s not silly. Not to me.”

“Well, I _feel_ very silly. I don’t regret a thing about us being together. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. I just… sometimes…”

“You wish I’d taken that first step.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. Exactly. Not all the time, of course. I was more than happy to be the one to initiate our relationship. And besides, you _always_ initiated everything in our friendship for hundreds of years. It’s a bit selfish of me to have wanted you to make such a huge step.” He paused for a moment, then gave a little sigh. “Anyway, there’s nothing to be done about it, now.”

“Isn’t there?”

He looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we roleplay and act out all our other fantasies. Why shouldn’t we act out this one?”

“Are you serious?”

“Very serious. It could be my anniversary gift to you. Well, part of it. I had some things already planned. But it would make me happiest to give you the seduction you’d always dreamed of.”

“Oh, Crowley… you’d do that?”

Crowley kissed his brow with a smile. “Of course I would, angel. I’d love to. We can roleplay it, just like everything else we’ve done. We’ll just pretend to go back in time to a year ago, when we were no longer working for opposing sides and pining for each other, except this time, I’ll make the first move. Would you like that?”

“I’d _love_ that, Crowley. It’ll be like reliving the best moment of my life all over again.”

Crowley grinned. “It was the best moment of my life, too. Is there anything in particular you want?”

Aziraphale thought fast. “No, I don’t think so. I’d just like there to be a bed nearby, so we can make love as soon as possible.”

“I can certainly accommodate that. Can we do it on the 28th, for our anniversary?” 

“I’d love that.”

“Good. That means I have ten days to get everything ready.” 

Ten days. Aziraphale couldn’t wait.

~*~O~*~

Crowley was around a little less over the next ten days, and while Aziraphale missed him while he wasn’t there - he wanted Crowley with him all the time - he knew that his beloved was working on a surprise for him, and Aziraphale couldn’t wait. He did his best not to ask Crowley where he’d been or what he’d been doing. On the couple of occasions he couldn’t help himself, Crowley had simply smiled, kissed him, and said, “You’ll see.”

The night before their anniversary, Crowley had come over for dinner. Aziraphale had wanted him to stay the night, but Crowley refused, saying he had a couple of loose ends to tie up. Aziraphale had pouted a little and Crowley had kissed his frown. 

“Now, remember, angel, tomorrow is going to be like the last year never happened.”

“I know, I know.”

“And I don’t want you to just fall into my arms, either. I mean, I _do_ want you to fall into my arms eventually, but I have a lot planned. Make me work for it a bit.”

“That goes against every instinct I have.”

Crowley chuckled. “I know. Just trust me, will you? Pretend to be confused and a little hesitant about the whole thing. Let me woo you.”

“Alright, alright. If that’s what you want.”

Crowley kissed him. “I’m trying to give you what _you_ want.”

“You won’t even give me a _hint_ about what you have planned?”

“Nope. Not a single hint. You’re to be surprised.” 

“Are you _sure_ I can’t see you beforehand?”

“We didn’t see each other all day every day a year ago. I’m trying to make it as realistic as possible.” 

“How will I know what to do?”

Crowley kissed him on the tip of his nose. “You’ll know, angel.”

“Alright.”

“I’m going to go now. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Crowley gave him a lingering kiss, and Aziraphale chased him a little when he pulled away. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow for our do-over.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Aziraphale watched him go until he was out of the door, then listened for the sound of the Bentley pulling away. When it was gone, he sighed and went to the back room, pulling down a book to read to kill the time. 

The next day, Aziraphale was doing his best to go about his usual business, but he felt as if he were on pins and needles. Time seemed to tick by more slowly than it had in ages, and he checked his watch frequently, always disappointed when the minute hand had barely moved. 

He was just starting to wonder if Crowley had forgotten about him when the front door opened at a few minutes before six, just before his usual closing time. A delivery man walked in carrying a huge bouquet of camellias, tulips, daffodils, calla lilies, and roses, and brought them to Aziraphale. 

“Delivery for A.Z. Fell?”

“That’s me,” Aziraphale said, his heart galloping in his chest. 

The delivery man handed over the enormous bouquet with a smile. “These are for you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

The man tipped his hat and turned to leave. Aziraphale was so chuffed, he bestowed a little blessing on the delivery man as he departed. 

Once he was gone, Aziraphale turned to look at his bouquet. There was a card sticking out of the top and Aziraphale grabbed it, reading it eagerly. 

_Aziraphale,_  
_I would be honored if you would join me for dinner tonight. Please come to the Ritz and ask for Anthony J. Crowley._  
_Sincerely yours_ ,  
_Crowley_

Aziraphale clutched the note to his chest, smiling. Oh, Crowley. How he loved that demon. He closed up the shop hurriedly and hailed a taxi to take him to the Ritz. 

When he arrived, he smiled at the doorman who opened the bronze and glass door for him, then breezed inside to the front desk, feeling like he was on a cloud. The woman behind the counter smiled at him, and Aziraphale smiled back pleasantly. 

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I’m looking for Anthony J. Crowley.”

“Ah, you must be Mr. Fell. Tom will take you to your dining room. Tom?” 

Aziraphale followed the host through a couple of corridors until he came to a stop outside of a large oak door. He thanked the man, who gave a little bow and left, then turned to face the oak door and took a couple of breaths, getting into character. “You’re confused. You’re not sure why you’ve been invited here, and when Crowley professes himself, you’re to be hesitant. Don’t be too eager. Be a little aloof. Don’t fall into his arms too easily. You can do this.”

His heart hammering wildly, he squared his shoulders and opened the door. 

The private dining room was lavishly decorated, in shades of ivory and taupe with lots of gilded accents. In the center of the room sat an elegantly-set table, draped with white linen, two place settings on it and a vase with a long-stem rose. A smaller table sat just to the side, empty. Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn to Crowley, standing beside the table, smiling brightly and looking a little nervous. Aziraphale’s heart flipped over at the sight of him, and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch his beloved, reminding himself to stay in character. He did allow himself a smile, although he tried to make it appear bewildered. 

“Crowley, my dear, what’s all this?”

“Hiya, angel,” Crowley replied. 

“Hello, yourself. I got your note and came right away.” 

“Did you also get the flowers?”

“Yes, and they’re simply stunning. But what’s the occasion? You’ve never sent me flowers before.”

“Well, I’m hoping tonight will be a special occasion.”

Aziraphale raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”

Crowley nodded. “Yes. Won’t you sit down?” he asked, gesturing towards the table. 

“Oh, yes, of course.” He made to move towards his seat and was surprised when Crowley pulled out his chair. He blushed and gave a little murmured ‘thank you’, and Crowley smiled brilliantly before he moved around on his side of the table. Aziraphale was nervous, which he figured was alright, and perfectly in character. If this were real, he’d be anxious about what was going on. 

“Wine, angel?” Crowley asked. 

“Er, yes, that would be lovely.”

Corwley pressed a button on his side of the table and almost at once, a waiter appeared in the room with a smile. 

“Yes, Mr. Crowley?”

“We’d like some wine, please.”

“Red, white, or blush?”

Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “Angel?”

“White, please.”

Crowley turned back to the waiter. “Your finest bottle of Prieur Montrachet, please.”

“Very good, sir. Your meals will be out shortly after the wine is served.”

“Thank you.”

The waiter departed with a bow and Aziraphale turned to Crowley. “You ordered my meal for me?” 

“I did. I hope that’s okay. I figured it would save us time and besides, after six thousand years, I know what my angel likes and doesn’t like.” 

Aziraphale felt a thrill rush all over him with the phrase ‘my angel’, then Crowley winked behind his glasses, and Aziraphale flushed with pleasure. 

“So why are we here?” Aziraphale asked. “We’ve never dined in a private room here before.”

“I fancied a bit of privacy tonight,” Crowley replied. 

“That’s not like you. Usually you want everyone to see you, like a demonic peacock.”

Crowley just grinned. “I have something for you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “You do?”

“Yes. A gift. A token of my esteem. Well, actually three gifts.” 

“Three?” Aziraphale laughed nervously. “If I were a human, I’d think it was my birthday.”

“Nope, not your birthday. Would you like to open the first one?”

“Yes, please.”

Crowley reached under the table and pulled out a box tied with a red ribbon that looked as if it might hold a shirt or something. He handed it over to Aziraphale with an admonishment: “Careful, the contents are fragile.”

Aziraphale accepted the box with a quizzical smile, then lay it on the table in front of him. Very carefully, he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid off the box to find a very old folio inside. He peered down at it, afraid to pick it up without his gloves, but he recognized the embossed name on the front. 

“Is that…?”

“William Shakespeare, yeah. This was his. This folio contains the first two drafts of Romeo and Juliet - two versions that the public never got to see. It’s written in his hand. There are also several sonnets, some of them unpublished.”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, wide eyed. “My dear, do you know what this is _worth_?”

Crowley shrugged. “Chump change.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Got it from William himself, in gratitude for inspiring it. Them. He thought the drafts were worthless, but I thought you might like it. I’ve been hanging onto it for the last five hundred years.”

“I don’t even know what to say, Crowley,” Aziraphale gushed, genuinely speechless. Then he paused, something clicking in his brain. “Wait - you _inspired_ it?”

“Yeah. Star-crossed lovers and all that.”

“Who on earth were you star-crossed lovers with?”

Crowley opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter came in bearing a wine bottle wrapped in a towel. Aziraphale hastily cleared the folio away before even a drop could be spilled on it, and smiled absently at the waiter as he filled his glass. 

“Your meals will be out directly, sirs.”

Crowley waved him away. “Yes, thank you.”

Aziraphale watched the man go, still dumbstruck, until Crowley cleared his throat. Aziraphale turned to look and found him with wine glass in hand, a smile on his face. 

“Shall we toast, and then you can have your second gift?”

“I - yes. Yes, let’s toast. To what?”

Crowley raised his glass. “To us. To having heaven and hell off our backs and finally being free to do whatever we want. And to new beginnings.”

Aziraphale raised his glass. “Here, here.”

They clinked glasses, then both took a sip. Crowley was looking at Aziraphale with such open adoration, it made his insides flutter. Oh, if this had really happened, He’d have been a goner by now. A folio of romantic literature he’d saved for centuries and a toast like that? But he’d promised not to give in too easily, and he was determined not to. He sensed that this was just as important to Crowley as it was to him, for similar but different reasons. 

“Would you like your second gift before the food arrives?”

“I - I think so, yes.”

Crowley grinned and reached under the table again, retrieving another box tied with a red ribbon. He handed it over the table to Aziraphale. 

“Gentle. That one’s even older than the Shakespeare folio.”

Aziraphale looked up from the box with wide eyes. “Even older?”

Crowley’s smile was lopsided and he nodded at the box in Aziraphale’s hand. “Go on, open it.”

Aziraphale untied the bow and lifted the lid to reveal a leather-bound book in fair shape. It wasn’t very thick, but featured a gilded cover and was clearly very, very old.

“What is it?”

“It’s Song of Solomon,” Crowley replied. “As written by me.”

“Song of Solomon? As written by _you_?”

“Yes. Well, copied by me, anyway. And illustrated.”

“How - _why_ do you have a book of the bible?”

“I did some time as a monk in an abbey that hadn’t been consecrated during the first Crusade, hiding from the wars. Spent most of my time drawing dicks in the margins of the works I was meant to be copying, but this one… This book reminded me very much of you, and I couldn’t stop thinking of you as I copied it. So I made another copy, illustrated it myself, and eventually had it bound into a book with the intention to give it to you someday.” 

“You - you _wrote_ this? And then you held onto it for a thousand years?”

“Because it made me think of you, yeah.”

“Crowley, I don’t - “

He was interrupted by the waiter returning with a tray laden with food. As he had done with the folio, Aziraphale quickly closed the box and put it to the side, out of the way. The waiter lay a scrumptious-looking plate down in front of each of them, and had Aziraphale not been so discombobulated by the gifts he’d been given, he’d have been thrilled to see the meal. It was salmon, laid on a bed of thinly-sliced cucumber with an oyster sauce and creme fraiche. The plate was garnished with flowers and simply gorgeous, but Aziraphale barely noticed. He just waited for the waiter to finish serving them, then make his exit. 

Crowley smiled at him from across the table. “Bon appetit, angel. Dig in.”

Dazedly, Aziraphale picked up his fork and took a bite of his meal. It was scrumptious, absolutely heavenly, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes and moan a little when the flavor burst across his tongue. 

“Is it good?” Crowley asked after his fourth bite. 

Aziraphale chewed and swallowed. “It’s simply beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you are, angel.”

He hesitated, remembering that he was meant to be playing a role. “What do you mean?”

“I meant what I said. The salmon is lovely, but nothing is as lovely as you. Not to me.”

Aziraphale’s mind whirled for a moment and he tried to think of what to say. What would his reaction have been if this were real?

Finally he settled on something. He just hoped it was right. He lay his fork down. 

“Crowley, I’m beginning to get a message from this evening, but I’m not sure it’s the _right_ message, or what to do with it.”

Crowley smirked. “Oh? What kind of message are you getting?”

“Well, you sent me flowers with a very clear message of affection and longing. We’re in a private dining room, and you ordered my favorites. You’ve presented me with two highly valuable books of romantic works, and then there’s your attentiveness to me this evening. It’s all leading me to one conclusion, but I’m sure it couldn’t possibly be the _right_ conclusion.”

“You tell me your conclusion and I’ll tell you if you’re right or not.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard. “It seems… oh goodness, I feel so silly even saying this…”

“Go on, angel.”

“It seems as if you’re professing a romantic interest in me.”

Crowley’s face lit up. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Aziraphale’s heart battered against the inside of his rib cage, and he did his best not to smile. Instead, he protested. “But you can’t be serious!”

“I’m perfectly serious. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my six thousand years on this earth, Aziraphale.”

“But… but… you’re a _demon_.”

“I’m aware of that fact.”

“Demons are incapable of love.”

“This one isn’t. He’s very capable of love. In fact, he’s been madly in love with you since a little before Mesopotamia. And now, with no home office to please, he’s eager to start a new life with you.” Aziraphale was silent a moment, trying to think of how to respond, when Crowley grinned. “Shall I prove it?”

Aziraphale was shaken out of his shock enough to be confused. “Prove it how?”

Crowley reached back under the table and produced a much larger box, one that required both hands to maneuver. He got to his feet, box in hand, and sat the box on the small table that was nearby. Turning to Aziraphale, he said, “This is my final gift to you. Hopefully it’ll make things more clear. Come, have a look.”

Aziraphale lay his napkin beside his full plate and got unsteadily to his feet, his eyes darting from a nervous-looking Crowley to the box and back. With trembling hands, he untied the red ribbon and pulled the lid off the box. 

Inside was a collection of books, scrolls, folios, loose papers, and even clay tablets, ranging in age from ancient to fairly recent. Aziraphale looked down at them dumbly. 

“They’re my writings,” Crowley explained. “All of them I was able to save, anyway. They date back to about 2500 BC, and the earliest ones are in sanskrit. There are some hieroglyphics in there, as well. The language evolved over the years, but the content has always been the same. They’re all about you, about how much I love you.”

Aziraphale looked up at him through eyes that were filled with tears. His jaw was slack with shock and he was at a complete loss. “Crowley…”

Crowley reached and took his hand, playing with his limp fingers a little, then bringing his hand up to kiss Aziraphale’s knuckles. “I love you, angel. I love you so much. This box full of words can’t even begin to capture a small portion of what I feel. My love for you is all-consuming, like fire. It burns so hot within me, and has for millenia, that sometimes I’ve thought I would burst into flames if I didn’t tell you. I’ve been waiting six thousand years for the chance to tell you, angel, for the moment I’d finally be free of hell and you’d be free of heaven, and now it’s here, so I can. I’ve loved you since the beginning of the world, and I loved you through the end of it. I’m going to love you until this planet goes up in ash. And when it does, I’m going to whisk you away to another planet and keep loving you until the end of time itself. I just love you, Aziraphale. I love you so much. And you’d make me the happiest being that ever existed if you could ever possibly see your way into loving me even a fraction as much as I love you.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed - the only word he felt capable of. Silent tears slid down his cheeks and his eyes were wide, taking in the hopeful face of his beloved. He’d known Crowley had loved him for ages, of course he’d _known_ , and Crowley wasn’t shy about saying those three little words frequently, but he’d never _dreamed_ of a declaration like that. He was frankly stunned, standing there with one hand in Crowley’s and the other perched on the box containing Crowley’s writings. Another tear fell, cutting a crystal path down Aziraphale’s cheek, and he knew what he had to do. 

“Ducks,” he said, in as strong a voice as he could manage. 

Crowley’s face fell and his shoulders drooped, the absolute picture of rejection. “You didn’t like it,” he said, his voice somber. “I’m sorry. I’ll - oof!”

He was cut off when Aziraphale threw his arms around him, hugging him tight, squeezing him close, crying openly on his shoulder. “Oh, Crowley, I love you so much, I love you, I love you…”

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s arms go around him. “So I did alright then?”

The angel gave a short, wet laugh, then started peppering kisses all over every inch of Crowley he could reach, starting with his neck, hair and ear, moving out until he had Crowley’s face cradled in his hands and was smothering him in kisses. 

“You did _amazingly_ , my love,” he praised between kisses. “I love you so much, just so much, Crowley.”

“I love you too,” Crowley said with a little smile. “But why did you use the safeword?”

“Because I was simply overcome with emotion, and didn’t want to pretend anymore. I couldn’t wait another second to kiss you and tell you I love you. I wanted to be my authentic self. Now, kiss me before I explode.”

Crowley gave a lopsided grin. “Yes, sir,” he said, then leaned in and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. It was just the barest touch, but it was enough to send a jolt all through his body. He melted into the kiss, sagging against Crowley’s strong body, and parted his lips at once when he felt Crowley’s tongue trace the seam of his mouth. Aziraphale slid his hand from Crowley’s cheek back into his hair, holding him close for their kiss, and gloried when Crowley wound his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and pulled their bodies flush. He could feel himself hardening, and thank someone, he could feel Crowley hardening, too. Their tongues chased each other playfully, joyfully, claiming each other’s mouths as their own. Aziraphale pressed his body tighter against Crowley’s, wantonly grinding himself against his love, and Crowley groaned into the kiss. Aziraphale would have smiled if he had been able, but he was becoming more and more desperately aroused the longer they kissed. He wanted Crowley _now_.

When the need for oxygen became too great, they broke the kiss, but Crowley didn’t move away. Instead, he started pressing kisses to Aziraphale’s cheeks, then his jaw, then his neck. 

“I want you, angel,” he growled against the skin of Aziraphale’s throat, just before he sucked a love bite into it. 

Aziraphale’s eyes rolled back in pleasure. “I want you, too, beloved. Where?”

There was the sudden sound of a throat clearing, and both of them turned towards the sound without breaking the embrace. The waiter stood beside the table, his cheeks a little red but stony-faced. 

“How are you gentlemen finding your meals?” he asked politely. 

Crowley growled low in his throat and released Aziraphale, digging into his pocket for his wallet, fishing out a fat wad of notes. “We’re done. This should take care of everything. Thank you,” he said curtly. 

“Yes, thank you,” Aziraphale said in a much kinder voice. 

The waiter looked down at the stack of notes in his hand - Aziraphale guessed it must have been at least a couple thousand pounds - then back up at them. “No, thank _you_. You gentlemen have a good night.”

“We’re going to,” Crowley answered, reaching over and grabbing Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale giggled. 

Once the waiter was gone, Crowley dragged Aziraphale back into his arms, attaching his mouth back to Aziraphale’s throat and nibbling. “I love you, angel, and I want you. I’ve never wanted you so badly in all my life.”

“That - oh - that sounds lovely. What about my books?”

Crowley raised his hand without stopping his nibbling and snapped. “There. They’ve been safely deposited back at your shop. Now where were we?”

Aziraphale grinned, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. “We were coming dangerously close to making love in the middle of the Ritz.” 

Crowley switched sides of his neck. “Are you opposed?”

“Perhaps we should go home, dear,” Aziraphale said with a smile. 

“Yours or mine?”

“Surprise me.”

Crowley raised his fingers and snapped. 

Aziraphale barely had time to register his surroundings - Crowley’s bedroom - before he found himself locked in a hard, desperate kiss. He moved with Crowley as the demon crowded him back, their lips locked together, tongues tangling around each other, until he broke the kiss with a gasp when his back hit the wall. Crowley didn’t hesitate to press his body against Aziraphale’s, pinning him, letting him feel the hard ridge of his erection. Despite the fact they were flush, it still didn’t feel close enough, and Aziraphale used his fists in Crowley’s shirt and jacket to pull him closer. He slotted one of his legs between Crowley’s and felt Crowley do the same to him, and both of them ground their cocks onto each other’s thighs. 

“I love you,” he panted when the kiss broke for air, still clutching Crowley’s clothes. He took advantage of the opportunity to kiss Crowley’s neck, nibbling the long tendon, dragging his tongue along Crowley’s skin, loving the way his demon’s taste exploded on his tongue. 

Crowley writhed against him. “God, angel, _fuck_ , I love you so much…”

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hands between them, pulling urgently at buttons, doing his best to get to Aziraphale’s skin, and Aziraphale shoved Crowley’s jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. Crowley growled when he had to let go of Aziraphale long enough to shake himself free of the jacket, but Aziraphale took advantage of the opportunity to start working on Crowley’s buttons. He kissed lower and lower with every inch of skin that was exposed, until his lips met the hair on Crowley’s chest. He let his mouth take a slight detour to the right then, over to Crowley’s erect nipple, making the demon groan when he nipped it. Aziraphale smiled around the nipple between his teeth and flicked his tongue across it wickedly. 

Crowley had managed to unbutton Aziraphale’s jacket and waistcoat and untie his tie, and was working frantically on the buttons of his shirt, muttering the whole time between kisses. “Off. Off. Get these _off_... want you naked _now_...”

Aziraphale had a lightbulb moment and released Crowley’s nipple, standing up straight, raising his hand and snapping his fingers. The miracle left them both naked, all their clothes gone, warm skin pressed against warm skin. 

The demon blinked a little in surprise, then claimed Aziraphale’s mouth again in a searing kiss. Aziraphale wrapped Crowley up in his arms, their bodies flush, their cocks rubbing against each other. Crowley ground his hips forward into Aziraphale, pushing him against the wall rhythmically, his hands clutching the globes of Aziraphale’s arse. Aziraphale clung to Crowley, wanting him closer, even closer, as close as they could be. It couldn’t ever be enough. Aziraphale would always want more of his love. 

This time, it was Crowley who broke the kiss and went to work on Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder. “Do something for me, angel?”

“Anything,” Aziraphale breathed. 

“I want to suck you off, right here, right now. But I want you to mark me. Claim me. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I do.”

Crowley raised up and covered his mouth in a hard, needy kiss, “I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you, too.”

Crowley pressed one last kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, then abruptly dropped to his knees before Aziraphale, leaving the angel a little slouched against the wall, breathing heavily, Crowley wrapped one long-fingered hand around Aziraphale’s cock, pumping it lightly, and Aziraphale watched him with hooded eyes. Crowley stroked him for a bit, until a little jewel of moisture appeared on the tip of Aziraphale’s cock, then he darted his tongue out to lick it up. Aziraphale cried out and Crowley grinned up at him. Then, with his yellow eyes locked on Aziraphale’s, he opened his mouth and took Aziraphale’s cockhead inside. Aziraphale hissed a breath at the same time Crowley hummed, closing his eyes in bliss, swirling his tongue around the head. Aziraphale was grateful for the wall to prop him up as Crowley started to bob his head, sucking Aziraphale’s cock. 

Aziraphale watched him with eyes bleary with lust, unable to speak. Crowley hummed and moaned and made quite a show out of how much he enjoyed having Aziraphale’s cock in his mouth, but Aziraphale knew it wasn’t a show. Crowley _loved_ sucking his cock, asked to do it often, and it was never a hardship to indulge him. But he also knew Crowley liked him to be an active participant, too. Aziraphale would give Crowley exactly what he wanted - he’d give Crowley _anything_ he wanted - but for now, he was just enjoying the show. 

Crowley was impatient, however, and grabbed for Aziraphale’s hands, placing them on his head. Aziraphale smiled a little as he wound his fingers through the auburn hair and fisted it. 

“That’s it, Crowley. Oh, dear, your mouth is _delightful_. I love the way you suck me. You do it so well, my love. You’re truly a gifted cocksucker.”

Crowley reached up and gently put his hands on Aziraphale’s hips, guiding him, and again, Aziraphale smiled. 

“You want me to fuck your face, beloved? Is that it?”

He gave a muffled ‘mhm’ around his cock. 

“Well I’m only too happy to oblige. It’s an absolute joy to fuck a mouth a sweet as yours.”

Aziraphale started thrusting lightly, his hands still in Crowley’s hair, careful not to start out too rough. He knew his lover well and knew that Crowley liked to feel used sometimes, but Aziraphale preferred to build up to that. 

“Look at you, my precious demon, on your knees before me. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, Crowley - at any time, but especially when you have your mouth full of my cock. And soon, I’ll get to cover that pretty face with my spend. Oh, I can’t wait.”

Crowley was still guiding his hips, urging him for more. Aziraphale took the hint and started thrusting harder and faster, his cock intruding deeper into Crowley’s mouth. 

“Ah! Yes, my darling! I love you, I love you so much… and your mouth feels so good on me. I love fucking your mouth like this. So, so good…”

His fists were tight in Crowley’s hair now, holding his head still, and Aziraphale was thrusting urgently into his mouth. Aziraphale watched as Crowley released his hips. One hand went to fondle his bollocks, and the other hand went to his own cock, pumping it quickly. 

“Are you masturbating, Crowley? Does it turn you on so much to suck me that you have to touch yourself? Well, I’m not opposed. Go ahead and jerk yourself off. I like to watch.”

Crowley moaned around his cock, and Aziraphale sped up the pumping of his hips. His cock was hitting the back of Crowley’s throat now, and Crowley was making a garbled noise that only served to turn Aziraphale on _more_. Crowley knew how to drive him wild, and it seemed he was pulling out all the stops tonight. His hand was flying on his own cock, and Aziraphale wondered how close he was. 

“Are you going to come for me, Crowley? Are you going to fuck your fist like I’m fucking your face until you come? Do it. I want you to spill your seed for me.”

Crowley’s garbled noises were growing more insistent, vibrating Aziraphale’s cock in the best of ways, and bringing him closer to the edge. He could feel his balls tightening in Crowley's hand and knew his orgasm was coming soon. He held Crowley’s head tighter and fucked him harder. 

“That’s it, my love. Yes! Feels so good. Ah! Ah! I’m getting close, Crowley. Do you still want me to mark you?”

Crowley nodded as best he was able and jerked himself harder. Aziraphale could feel the orgasm barreling towards him, too late to stop it now, and thrust into Crowley’s throat twice, three times more, then pulled out with a cry and started jerking himself off. 

The demon sputtered for just a second, getting air, then looked up at Aziraphale with wide eyes, his pupils blown. “Come for me, Aziraphale. Come all over me. Paint me with your come. Shit! I want it. _God_ I’m close… gonna come… _please_...”

Aziraphale was fucking his fist as hard and fast as he could, his orgasm so close he could taste it. “Gonna come for you, Crowley. Fuck!”

Crowley’s face was desperate. “Please, angel, please…”

“Here I come! Ah! Ah! _Fuck!_ ”

His come erupted from his cock and covered Crowley’s rapturous face in thick ropes, landing on his cheeks, his nose, his chin, and in his open mouth, across his tongue. Crowley’s face screwed up in a grimace of pleasure and he swore, his own orgasm overtaking him, even as Aziraphale continued to mark his face. Aziraphale refused to close his eyes, wanting to watch, his breathing heavy and ragged as the last few drops of come dribbled out onto Crowley’s chin. His entire body tingled with pleasure, leaving him slumped against the wall, gasping for air and shuddering with aftershocks. 

He watched Crowley’s face closely, enjoying the sight of his beloved achieving this ultimate pleasure, and _really_ enjoying the pearly fluid covering his skin that marked him as Aziraphale’s. Crowley kept his eyes closed for a minute, his mouth open to facilitate his heavy breathing, Aziraphale’s come dripping from his lip into his open mouth. Then the demon opened his eyes and gave Aziraphale a slow grin. 

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the arm urgently, pulling him to his feet, bracing his head in his hands and kissing him hard. His tongue sought out Crowley’s and he tasted his own spend in his lover’s mouth. On an impulse, he broke the kiss and started cleaning Crowley’s face with his thumbs, kissing the newly clean spots, dimly noting Crowley smiling under the attention. He was about halfway done when Crowley caught his mouth again for a long, smoldering kiss, and Aziraphale melted. He pulled Crowley close to his body, as close as he could get him, and let their mouths communicate without words as their hands roamed softly. 

After a little while, the kiss gentled, and the two beings smiled against each others’ mouths. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, between little, sipping kisses.

“I love you, too.”

“Shall we retire to the bed?”

Crowley took his hand, threading their fingers together, and tugged. “Come with me.”

They crawled into Crowley’s large, soft bed, under the black duvet and between the red silk sheets, wrapping up in each other’s arms, lying belly to belly. Neither of them bothered with putting on any sort of pyjamas, which was fine with Aziraphale. He was quite sure that they would make love again tonight, at least once, and there was no point in putting on clothes they’d just take off soon. But for now, he intended to enjoy the soft afterglow with his beloved. They lay quietly for a while, sharing soft, slow kisses and gentle touches, content in the moment. It had been an amazing, unbelievable evening, and Aziraphale had never been happier. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“For what?” Crowley asked. 

“For this evening. For _everything_. From the flowers to the dinner to the gifts… I hated you being gone so much these last few days, but I appreciate that you dug up those things for me, and the stories you told.”

“They weren’t stories, Aziraphale. What I told you was true.”

Aziraphale drew back to look at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not, angel. William and I were drinking buddies for a while there, and when I was in my cups, I would tell him about my ‘angel’, whom I loved but could never be with properly because our ‘families’ were mortal enemies. He took my sorrow and wrote arguably his most famous play about it. He gave me the folio with the rough drafts as thanks, and I kept them. And that’s not the only work you inspired. Honestly, angel, if you had any idea the number of songs and plays and sonnets and paintings you’d inspired over the last few thousand years, you’d discorporate.”

Aziraphale blinked owlishly. “And you truly lived as a monk for a while?”

“I did. I wanted nothing to do with the Crusades, as I’m sure you can imagine, so I decided to lay low in an unblessed abbey. It was great fun, seducing the nuns and priests and drawing in the margins of books, things I knew would drive historians fucking bananas in the years to come. The dull part of it was copying texts. I’d avoided the bible for centuries, for obvious reasons, but was exposed to Song of Solomon in that abbey for the first time, and it was just… it spoke my heart. Everything I wanted to say to you and about you was _right there_. So I made it a little side project to copy Song of Solomon with the vague intention of giving it to you someday.”

Aziraphale was dumbfounded. “And the other writings? They’re really all about me?”

Crowley nodded. “Every single one of them. That’s what I spent the majority of the week doing, going through all my old things and sorting out which were about you and which were just me bitching about home office, wishing for a different life. There’s some overlap, but what I gave you is nearly entirely all declarations about how much I loved you and lamentations about how we could never be together.”

“And you kept them for millenia?”

“Of course. They were precious to me, because they were about you.”

Aziraphale felt a tear spill from his eye and Crowley smiled softly, brushing it away. “Hey, now, none of that.”

“I just love you so much, Crowley, and I hate that we had so many years that we wasted pining for each other…”

“There was nothing we could do about that. Heaven and Hell would have destroyed us, had they known. It all worked out the way it was meant to.” He gave a lopsided grin, a twinkle in his eye. “I like to think that you and I were part of the ineffable plan.”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “Yes, I rather think we were.”

“So I take it you enjoyed our anniversary?”

“Oh, so much, Crowley. So very, very much. I love you, my darling.”

Crowley kissed him softly. “I love you, too, Aziraphale. Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary to you, too, my love.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Anniversary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488225) by [Literarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literarion/pseuds/Literarion)




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